


Love Me Like I Know You Will

by impossiblesongs



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/M, HAPPY ANNIVERSARY SWEETIES, Young!River and Time War feels ensue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-22
Updated: 2015-04-22
Packaged: 2018-03-25 07:38:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3802246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impossiblesongs/pseuds/impossiblesongs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>She gave him all of her own choices, twice now. The first going all the way back in his past, the second in Berlin. So now, in the making of her beginnings, he's here to give her choices back to her. All of them.</i> – River proves harder work young. The Doctor doesn't mind. Much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Me Like I Know You Will

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** Not my characters. This has been a disclaimer.  
>  **AN:** I'm kind of disregarding the minisode "First Night" in this fic (and Eleven is pre-50th here, just fyi). I don't know, man. The combination of a skeptical Young!River in her early days at Luna and sappy-besotted-Hubby!Eleven having to win her over filled my senses. This always seems prone to happening around 2-5 AM so excuse any mistakes made, as I'm running on sleep deprivation and feels (obviously). Title from the song 'Deeper' by Alexz Johnson.

Young, she’s angry. Angrier than he’s ever seen her. Lost and utterly unsure of herself, and all the more likely to accept help from the likes of him. When she’s in such a state, she’s not able to do much else anyway. Tonight, after he’s turned up right in the middle of one of her night terrors, held her and comforted her and wiped her tears away, River is quick to make sure that he’s as far away from her as she can manage.

 

Three months ago he was spread out over a set of stairs in Berlin, his death to come by her hand. It’s simply incomprehensible to her this young as to why he’s still there at all. Also, she doesn’t much like that he’s here to see her like _this_.

 

She had been confused, startled really, at how easily, how  _willingly_ , she fell into his arms and accepted the comforts he’d offered her. Downright rattled with it, River Song is. Technically, she is still a newborn on how the whole trust thing is supposed to work, the mechanics of it. She’s got no reason at all to trust him and even less of a reason to trust herself, but she’ll get there. He has all the faith in her.

 

“You really don’t have to stay,” says River, breaking his silent musings of her and heading straight for the front door of her student rooms. It stands open in waiting for him.

 

The Doctor watches her quietly and assesses this whole distance act she’s trying to pull, not knowing if he should go or insist on staying put. He can read her better than he could in the beginning but she’s still so young, so immovable to reasoning when that stubbornness of hers kicks in.

 

“You wouldn’t want me to stay?” he makes careful, lingering steps along the way. Marveling at the items she's procured so far at university as if they are all the treasures he's ever wanted to feast his eyes upon.

 

One of Rory's old medical books lies on one of the tables near a sofa in the sitting room. He probably gave that to River in case of emergencies. Amy's old jumper, the red one. It's there. Oh, the Ponds have been here since Berlin alright. The question the Doctor is stuck wondering at is: how and when? And would he be there? Needless to say, it takes him a pretty little while by the time he nears the open door and, by extension, River.

 

“It would be no trouble.” He assures, reminding her of his offer. "I have no place I need to be tonight."

 

“Doctor,” River sighs, “I’m tired.” And he doesn’t doubt it. “I also have class tomorrow.”

 

He smirks at the way her left brow hitches up at him. It’s almost a dare for him to comment against her studies, against archeology as a whole, but The Doctor contains himself. He shoves his hands deep in his pockets before he does something stupid, like reach out to tug on a curl affectionately.

 

Though such actions have come to be ritualistic in gesture between the two of them, such familiarity will not be appreciated here in the now. Sadly, any act of familiarity will only serve to spook River all the more. That is not what he wants. What he wants is to help her, as she has helped him. That’s why he’s here, after all. 

 

“I can make you scones in the morning,” he keeps on it, hoping beyond hope that it will sway her and yet all the while knowing that it won’t. “I have Rory's recipe somewhere in the Tardis, I can go fetch it if you'd like."

 

“ _Doctor_!” River snaps, turning her face away from him in shame and cursing.

 

He swells with affection at her flustered annoyance of him. It's the anger she can’t help indulging in this young. Her go-to defense. She responds to him without reserve, like the crack of a whip. River is all huffy temperament and she's the tendency to flush outright at being caught with so little control of her outbursts when around him.

 

_Every. Single. Time._

 

He shouldn't squirm with delight over it, kind of does a bit.

 

“Look,” she’s trying for calm and collected, but her voice rises with every word. “I thank you for being here, for… for doing what you’ve done, but I’m fine now. I’m a grown woman, and I can bloody well take care of myself. I don’t need you here, dropping in like it’s your job to look after me. Besides, don’t you have some other planet to go destroy or something?”

 

Her cheeks color beautifully when her little speech comes to an end, green eyes clouded over with something that looks an awful lot like shame. Before he can help it, The Doctor feels his shoulders sag forward involuntarily. Of all the dismissals she’s given him in the past three months, this one sure did sting something horrible.

 

River’s eyes dart every which way, frantic and not really understanding this new feeling taking hold of her. The all resounding guilt. The Doctor feels even more helpless watching on as her face falls and reveals every one of these emotions to him. Emotions she finds so unsettling and her complete lack of understanding as to why hurting him in turn seems to also be hurting her. 

 

“Please leave.” River says, finally. Miserably. Wanting him gone so resolutely. Perhaps she thinks if he's gone she won't feel any of these things anymore, the Doctor knows better.

 

“Alright, then.” He nods, pasting a sad smile on his face. He refuses to leave her with a frown. Not if he can help it. “If you’re sure,” he waits, dangles himself on the ropes of a thing called hope. Hope that she'll change her mind and let him stay. Let him help. In her ongoing silence, he relents. “Alright, River. Fine. I’ll leave you. If that’s what you truly want.”

 

He thinks he spots tears in her eyes but her words are brisk and to the point. “The door’s open for a reason.”

 

He passes through it, stops, and turns back around. To tell her, because she must know. “Always and completely, River. I did mean it.”

 

The door shuts in his face.

 

-           

 

The next few meetings go better. River does not apologize but the Doctor hadn’t really expected her to. It should be more complicated, probably. It had hurt him,  _she_  hurt him. It would however be more than slightly unfair to hold things out of her control against her. Besides, he can’t ever recall himself apologizing for being young and stupid, so really, why should she be expected to?

 

River is experiencing feelings she's never had to stop and face before. Facing change and her future, and the extensions that came along with feeling strongly for someone else. An other, not family or friend, with no reasoning as to what one is feeling. All of which happen to be more than simply unsettling. They are, in very literal terms: life altering. So of course she's lashing out at him. He was there, caught smack-dab right in the middle. Being the cause and the effect. They both are, have been, will be.

 

Taking these things to heart, these unavoidable hurts, they wouldn’t help her. Which  _is_  what he's resolved himself to doing, so he has to keep focus on that and not veer away from it. This, their time together, her firsts, are entirely in service to River learning and growing in her own right. To have her chance to become whatever it is that she wants to be. It is her choice, all of this, from this point on. He will not rob her of that, even if it costs him.  _Especially_  if it costs him. She gave him all of her own choices, twice now. The first going all the way back in his past, the second in Berlin. So now, in the making of her beginnings, he's here to give her choices back to her. All of them. 

 

Then, well….

 

Then she tries to break it off.

 

“This isn't what you want,” urges River, eying him like a viper ready to strike him dead if he’s to even attempt mentioning her admissions made on the top of a pyramid, in a time that never was. Things she wishes he’d forget, now that all of it is said and done.

 

“You have to know that by now all of this? It's quite ridiculous. You don't have to do this, I certainly don't need you to. We're... we've been stuck together before, yes, but we are free to do as we want now. I’m studying here at Luna and you… you should get back to time and space. Or whatever it is that you want to do. You do see that, right? That we’re okay now? You do." But she peers at him, uncertain and in a bit of a fright as she waits for his answer. " _Don’t you_?”

 

The Doctor has to abstain from the soppy, besotted grin wanting to break free across his face. This brush off shouldn’t fill his hearts with a fierce warmth and delight, but by god it  _does_. Because this means that she’d first have to admit to the fact that they’ve started to become something worth breaking away from. Which she hasn’t. Yet. But he knows. Oh, this far along, he always knows. 

 

The Doctor looks at River from behind his fringe, his wife-one-day, and contemplates. This is River, and yet it is not. She’s still cooking. Young and confused of herself and her direction, and therefore even more so of him. She knows nothing of promises made long ways away, by the both of them. Promises of not only love but so much more than that. The promise to try and to give, especially when there is nothing being given back in return. To look head on, when the face of the one you love is looking back at you, yet unfinished and too unfamiliar to recognize. When you are but a stranger protruding a still blossoming orbit, a mostly untrusted force.

 

In this instance, he knows that he owes it to her to be kind. Patient. She must make her own way. No matter what.

 

“Okay.” The Doctor answers, nodding his acceptance of her plea. 

 

River looks him over suspiciously, her nose wrinkling adorably. " _Okay_?"

 

“Okay, okay. Said it twice, dear.” He sniffs the air noisily and tugs on his braces with the tip of his thumbs. They snap back against his chest with a slick  _crack_. “You really should try and keep up, Song." he scolds her lightly. "Wasting precious time, you are.”

 

River’s eyes narrow dangerously at him, “Oh, don’t you mouth back at me, Time Boy. I could kill you in a heartbeat if I so wished.”

 

He snorts, unimpressed (and all for show).

 

“Flirt,” he mutters beneath his breath, which she catches. River doesn’t retort but a pleased sort of smile has worked its way onto her glorious face. And, more importantly, she doesn’t make him leave. 

 

“Well, if you’re going to insist on hanging around,” River sighs, as if he’s some big bore that she’s being forced to put up with, “help with my thesis perhaps?”

 

The Doctor shifts closer and peers down at her school papers, knowing the answer before he asks.

 

“What’s the subject?”

 

River turns her gorgeous green orbs on him, and his hearts stutter from inside his chest.

 

-           

 

“Are you quite sure about this?” River asks, for the millionth time, the next time he lands at Luna. Planned and scheduled this time. River insisted.

 

They’ve sat themselves down in the school library and she’s got a tape recorder at the ready. An interview, is what this is.

 

“You don’t have to, you know." River says shakily. All nerves as she sorts through the papers she's spread out all over the library desk, more for something to do than actually needing them. "Not this," she continues, "if it's too much.”

 

The Doctor shrugs, nonchalance his key approach. “It’s part of my life, River. Part of my history. As your main subject, a thesis demands reliable answers, does it not? So ask away.”

 

River presses the 'record' button on her tape player and stares at him, taking a deep breath. (As if she’s the one on the other end of this conversation.) Quietly, she asks her first question. 

 

“What is your recollection of the Time War?”

 

The Doctor marvels at River for a second. Has to. Soaking in her beauty and his present before shutting his eyes and looking back towards his past. He sees it. Gallifrey. All of it. Fire and death and his hand in it all. He's hidden it away where only he can find it. For years he’s only had to look away, for the forgetting comes easier the more the years pass him by. 

 

Opening his eyes again, he finds River’s own bright orbs staring back in him in wonder and uncertainty. In want for knowledge that only he knows. For a moment he allows himself to gets lost in the sea of green, distracting himself for a moment longer before speaking. 

 

“I can’t… the words, they’re hard to phrase.” He admits. “Words won’t serve you the purpose you wish. To understand.”

 

River nods, reaching out to stop the tape, but the Doctor shakes his head. His hand reaches out, encircling her wrist. Her skin is warm against his own, pulse quickening beneath his thumb as he holds onto her. 

 

“I can show you,” he offers, not letting go. She doesn’t know what he means, of course. The little wrinkle appearing atop her brow tells him that. “Come here,” he stands, and she stands along with him. He moves her over to stand in front of him and, regretfully, lets go of her wrist. “It’s a Time Lord thing, a link.” he explains rather rubbishly with a lick of his lips. “I’m going to… to show you.”

 

“Doctor,” she says softly, “you really don’t have to do this.”

 

“I want to.” He assures her. Meaning it. “Close your eyes.” His fingertips are on her skin, skin he misses being able to map out and touch terribly. He shakes away such wants. Now is not the time.

 

His mind seeks her own but he winces to the realization that her mind is not open to him. Too early. He has to ask.

 

“You have to allow me past, River.” He whispers. “You have to trust me. You have to let me in. Please, let me in." The air is tense with her hesitance and he adds, "Only you have that power. Just... trust me, yeah?”

 

Though reluctant at first, she allows him access. He's very careful to only give, not take. Not until she's ready and willing to join in the sharing will he act on this indulgence. Not that they do it often, either. It's just another intimacy from one Time Lord to another, and the Doctor does sorely miss his wife's consciousness colliding and melding with his own. Joined. 

 

River sees exactly what he’s seen. Everything, from beginning to the terrible end of it. She is there, intermingling with his memories and walking the steps he walks, looking through his own eyes as if they were her own. The Moment. Choosing. Destroying. Being the last, all alone. For the rest of time. Until... 

 

_you_

 

When he opens his eyes, River is looking back at him. Tears of horror, sorrow, disbelief – they’re there, but there is no judgement in her eyes. No condemnation. No blame.

 

At that moment, the Doctor doesn’t quite remember how or when he fell for her. For River Song. At times he’s even convinced he’d skipped that part entirely. What he knows is this: River Song is his match. A constant force even he could not refuse nor deter. Time and time again she’s proven to be nothing less or more than his equal, only better. Because she _is_. To him, she most definitely is. River Song had come to be, in any and every sense,  _His_  Doctor.

 

“You’re,” she says, breathless. Unable to make sense of it, of how such a thing can even be possible. “We’re the same.” She whispers, finally, and he can hear the relief there. The weight, of how it’s lifted into something. The prospect of being understood, and the hope because of that. How she knows now, that when he sees her, he sees  _her_. For all, not just the good, but the bad too. Because they've both done things dubbed unforgiven, and now she knows. Knows how completely possible it is for him to love her  _because_  of it, not in spite of it. How one day, perhaps, she will see it possible to love him back in the same manner as well.

 

“River Song isn’t perfect, no matter how you’ve convinced yourself that’s what she is, what you ultimately have to be. You’re wrong.” He has to shush her so he can get the rest of it out.  Finish what he's left unspoken for too long. “Don’t even bother trying to deny that’s the conclusion you worked up ever since you’ve learned of our future together in Berlin. I know you, River Song. So you can’t fool me. Well, you can, but not this. Not  _us_. And that’s not why….” 

 

The Doctor stops. Swallows. Suddenly terrified. River is silent and still, waiting. No point in stopping now, he supposes.

 

“That’s never been the reason I fell in love with you.” He confesses, quietly. Embarrassed even, after all this time. Feeling his cheeks heat from such an admission. Not the admission itself, no, but that she doesn't just  _know_ already. It's so silly. And hard. Harder than he'd expected. Being the one who knows everything, being the leader. It's one more thing he finds he will never be able to thank her for, his River. Because when it was her turn at it she played her part brilliantly. They would not be here now, had she not been so effortlessly patient and astoundingly brave. Taking this, _him_ , on. 

 

River, the one in front of him now, bites down on her lip to stop its quivering. She looks like she's been told something highly unlikely. 

 

“Me?” she replies in a whisper, foggy and mystified by it. 

 

“Of course you.” He confirms, smiling happily. “You’re River Song. The one and only. Ever. You might as well get used to it.”

 

Goodbye he most certainly did not plan to be with a kiss to her cheek. He couldn't help himself though, and she gave him one back.

 

 

-

 

 

"Have you called your mum?" he asks her, exactly two meetings later.

 

River blinks up at him in surprise. She's sprawled on her bed and, as he's rather smug to see, writing in her blue journal. "Doesn't it usually make a noise?"

 

Ah, so she noticed.

 

"Used the blue stabilizers, dear. Wanted to surprise you." The Doctor shuts the Tardis door and collapses at River's side with a bounce, nearly popping right off the bed before River reaches over and grips at his shirt, pulling him steady. 

 

The Doctor grins widely and River rolls her eyes, letting go of her hold on him. 

 

"You still didn't answer my first question, Song." the Doctor leans over. "She misses you." he informs. "You should give her a ring. Special thing, mums. Take advantage."

 

River shuts the blue book when she catches on that he's trying to peek. He has to duck away quickly when she comes to sitting position, stashing the book in her bedside drawer. 

 

"Have I reason to call my mother?" River inquires, her eyes narrowing and turning speculative. "What did you do?"

 

" _Me_?!" He gapes, puffing up considerably. "Why am I always the one who does something? Why can't it be Rory?"

 

"Because the only bad habit my father has ever had is the unfortunate luck of dying repeatedly, sweetie."

 

Slowly, the Doctor forgets himself in asking just where exactly she's learned such information about Rory, for his hearts start to ache at the realization of River's spoken endearment. His smile turns from wide and apparent to tiny and soft.

 

"You called me sweetie." he says, strangely terrified of mentioning it in anything louder than a whisper. 

 

River stares at him, seeming to realize that yes, in fact, she had.

 

"You," she hesitates, "In Berlin, you did say only River Song gets to call you that. I merely figured that...." 

 

River shrugs. Unsure.

 

"Yes." he answers. "I did. Only you, River. It's only ever you."

 

The Doctor reaches for her hand and she smiles.

 

 

-

 

 

The next time he turns up, leaning against the Tardis doorway, he asks, "Do you trust me, River Song?"

 

"Certainly not, sweetie." She tells him flat out as she squeezes in past him through the doors and into the console room.

 

He smiles at her answer. Loves her for it, his River. Always honest with him and never afraid to be. "Oh well, you can't blame a bloke for trying." There's a twinkle in his eye as he says this.

 

"Maybe when you're older," she mutters, not once taking her eyes off of him and her voice swelling with an affection he's long used to.

 

"But where would be the fun in that?" he continues, in invisible quotations, bopping the tip of her nose with a fingertip. 

 

Later, after the adventure and the running, when River's fallen asleep at the Tardis console and her head is a mass of curls covering up half her journal entry, the Doctor makes out the eight worded question he'd uttered spelled out in all capitals and underlined twice. Words he was only repeating really. As they seem to do nothing but quote each other, he and River, and so often with one oblivious to the action. It was ironically ridiculous, however there it was. Staring up at him. 

 

_But where would be the fun in that_ , and beside them River's own thoughts were written, which read: 'these words seem important.'

 

_Oh, River,_ he thinks, considering taking her back to Luna and placing her safely in her own bed. Instead, he pushes back the curls from her face, leans down and kisses her brow. Careful in picking her up, he wanders the Tardis corridors with a sleeping River in his arms until the Tardis shows him to the correct room for the evening. He smiles at the sight of their bedroom when it comes into view, once past the doorway. Placing his River down on their bed and bundling her up nice and snug in the covers, the Doctor knows then exactly what constitutes of importance. 

 

_Every. Single. Line._

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY ANNIVERSARY MR & MRS SONG!!!


End file.
